In The Palm Of Your Hand
by fistlinski
Summary: Derek loves Stiles hands. He loves everything about Stiles, to be honest. But if someone asked Derek what his favorite thing about Stiles was, physically? It would be those fucking hands.


Derek loves Stiles hands. He loves everything about Stiles, to be honest. But if someone asked Derek what his favorite thing about Stiles was, physically?

It would be those fucking _hands._

Stiles' hands are pornographic, even when they don't mean to be. From the way his hands move as he speaks, jerking and flailing in an almost poetic way as if nimble fingers are orchestrating a stream of consonants and vowels together, to the way those same, slender fingers simply wrap themselves around a soda bottle, making Derek keen for them to be wrapped around his own dick. Derek loves watching Stiles' hands move, loves how Stiles can convey so much with the simple flick of his wrist or the tapping of his finger.

But what he loves most is feeling Stiles' hands.

Even when they've had their run in with another ghoul or witch and Stiles is yelling about how Derek is a dumbass alpha that needs to stop with the fucking hero complex, his hands will be cradling Derek's face, the pads of his thumbs concentrated as they rub along Derek's jawline and run gently over the cut on his bottom lip that's already starting to heal. It makes him feel safe, makes Derek happy to know that someone cares about him coming home in one piece even if Stiles is calling him a fucking jerk all the whilst.

He loves it when they're driving and Stiles' hand always finds his, absently threading their fingers together or turning Derek's hand over to trace not!hearts into his palm. It's soothing, a little anchor in it's own when Stiles' fingers are playing in his hair while they're lying on the couch, scratching his scalp lightly. It's calming when Derek is stressed out and, as if on cue, Stiles' palm is flat against the small of his back, grounding him back, telling him it'll be okay.

But Derek would be lying if he said that's the only reason why he loves Stiles' hands.

He loves them on lazy Sunday mornings, loves how they wake him up, slipping underneath his shirt, one finger tracing abstract patterns slowly from Derek's chest down to his happy trail until it finally reaches the band of his underwear. It always makes Derek groan, the way Stiles' hands stop at the band, because Stiles, the little shit that he is, will let his fingertips ghost over Derek's obviously hard dick, touching yet not touching because Stiles wants Derek to beg for it. And Derek will, he'll bite his bottom lip and moan out Stiles' name in a hoarse whisper that says he's still waking up but he's awake enough. That'll say that no matter how much of a big bad alpha he may seem to be, Stiles has that power to make him fervent with want and need.

Derek always tries to control himself when he feels Stiles' fingers tugging his boxers down his hips and legs, always tries and fails to stifle the groan in his throat when thumbs press into his inner thighs and his legs spread apart as if in a trance. And to be honest, he doesn't know why but it must be the fact that he just loves the power play. Loves trying to challenge Stiles, to say you can't break me even though he knows Stiles can because he does every single fucking time.

Because in the end, he's clutching at their bedsheets when one of Stiles' fingers plays against him, teasing and taunting him alongside Stiles' voice that's hot on his ear, whispering everything he wants to do to Derek by the time the sun goes down.

And when fingers finally slip inside, Derek suddenly becomes greedy, hungry for Stiles', losing all resolve as he thrusts down as appendages thrust into him. He'll pant into the crook of Stiles' neck, licking at him sloppily while trying to tell Stiles to do everything to him, to fuck him into the next week. He's beyond a fucking mess when after an agonizing wait he finally feels palms hot against his ass, fingers grabbing at him, spreading his cheeks apart so that Stiles can do everything he's been promising.

Derek loves it when Stiles pins him down because it tells him Stiles wants him to enjoy it, doesn't want him to move, wants him to feel every single feeling. He enjoys watching Stiles' fingers as they flex around his biceps, always seeming to testjust how much Stiles can hold, just how much of Derek he can dominate. And Derek craves the sight of Stiles' veins as they become more prominent the harder Stiles fucks into him because.. well that shit is just hot.

Whether he's poking Derek n the side playfully or jabbing his finger into Derek's face to make a point, Derek loves Stiles' hands. He loves those seemingly fragile things that can break if simply bumped against Derek's fist with a little force because as fragile as they may be they can also break Derek, break him until he's completely undone, moaning and writhing pitifully intimately or not.

So yeah, Derek loves a lot of things about Stiles. From the constellation of moles that run along his body, a trail he loves to run his tongue along, to his brown eyes that emote just as much as his mouth, Derek loves Stiles entirely.

But his fucking hands are one of the best things to be honest.

**FIN**

A/N: Drabble I wrote on tumblr, a bit short. As always, I hope you enjoyed!

And feedback is a thing that is encouraged ~


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